nly went out, in deep
mourning, at night, because she had been the love of a Russian
grand-duke, and the grand-duke was dead; of the Carlist pretender and
his wife, who had been very popular in Venice until they took it into
their heads to require royal honors, and Venice, taking time to think,
had lazily decided the game was not worth the candle--so now the sulky
pair went about alone in a fine gondola, turning glassy eyes on their
former acquaintance; of the needy marchese who had sold a Titian to the
Louvre, and had then found himself boycotted by all his kinsfolk in
Venice who were not needy and had no Titians to sell--all these tales
Kitty reeled out at length till the handsome gondoliers marvelled at the
little lady's vivacity and the queer brightness of her eyes.

"Gracious, Kitty, where do you get all these stories from?" cried Ashe,
when the chatter paused for a moment.

He looked at her with delight, rejoicing in her gayety, the slight
touches of white which to-day for the first time relieved the sombreness
of her dress, the return of her color. And Margaret wondered again how
much of it was rouge.

At the Armenian convent a handsome young monk took charge of them. As
George Sand and Lamennais had done before them, they looked at the
printing-press, the garden, the cloister, the church; they marvelled
lazily at the cleanliness and brightness of the place; and finally they
climbed to the library and museum, and the room close by where Byron
played at grammar-making. In this room Ashe fell suddenly into a
political talk with the young monk, who was an ardent and patriotic son
of the most unfortunate of nations, and they passed out and down the
stairs, followed by Margaret French, not noticing that Kitty had
lingered behind.

Kitty stood idly by the window of Byron's room, thinking restlessly of
verses that were not Byron's, though there was in them, clothed in forms
of the new age, the spirit of Byronic passion, and more than a touch of
Byronic affectation--thinking also of the morning's telegram. Supposing
Darrell's prophecy, which had seemed to her so absurd, came true, that
the book did William harm, not good--that he ceased to love her--that he
cast her off?...

... A plash of water outside, and a voice giving directions. From the
lagoon towards Malamocco a gondola approached. A gentleman and lady were
seated in it. The lady--a very handsome Italian, with a loud laugh and
brilliant eyes--carried a scar